Walking in Stilettos with a Broken Ankle

Anyone who's ever tried walking in heels knows the core muscle, back and leg strength needed to pull off this feat with any type of grace in our gait. Strong feet and ankle muscles are imperative as they ensure that we remain standing and not find ourselves in the same predicament I once found myself trying to cross a busy intersection during lunch traffic in heels--fallen with a broken shoe heel, an even more broken pride and an extremely sore backside. When I went to my doctor to check on my sore bum after the fall, he asked, "Jabaria, when are you going to give up those heels for some more sensible shoes?" My response was, "When sensibility looks as good on me as these stilettos!" He laughed and said, "You'd probably try to walk around in stilettos with a broken ankle!" 

He's probably right. 

There is oftimes a similar heaviness in ministry...one that comes from trying to carry all the burdens of those around you while attempting to maintain some semblance of self and sanity. I call this, ministering out of brokenness, or in diva speak, walking in stilettos with a broken ankle. 

As women, we are faced with many disappointments and difficulties in life--broken marriages, broken children, broken careers and broken finances. And yet, despite our own fragile and broken state, we are called on to help others who are broken. We are charged with keeping our homes and families intact, keeping our careers moving, maintaining our heads above tumultuous fiscal waters, all while balancing on mental, emotional and ofttimes physical stilettos. 

We carry within us the shards of our broken hearts, and as a result, find ourselves slicing, cutting, jabbing those around us with the jagged and sharps fragments of our brokenness. We damage those we are called to protect. We wound those we are called to help heal. Some of us are so desperately trying to hold ourselves together, we dare not stretch out a hand to others because we are using both of ours to hold in the pieces. If we let go, even a little bit, we'd find ourselves scattered all over the floor. Then what would everyone think of us? What would those around us say, if they knew that underneath the well tailored suit lie ill-sown sutures bursting at the seams of our wounded souls? Sores of hurt, betrayal and disappointment leaking and oozing with infection that comes from festering unforgiveness that has soured and turned bitter. What if people saw underneath our well placed make-up and foundation lie lesions that have formed keloids and scar tissue, developed from years of rehearsed pain and self-pity.

How do we minister in this broken state? How can we help others live lives full of God's grace and mercy, when don't know how to apply it to our own wounds and issues?

Since bringing my 2nd daughter into my home December of 2014, my finances have shrunk while my household size doubled. And so, I find myself again, balancing in yet another pair of stilettos-these being of the Wells Fargo variety.

As I stare at the calendar and another birthday has come and gone, I find myself just shy of the dreaded 4-0. I don't think I'd have such trepidation and hesitation if I were closer to reaching some of my personal, professional and relationship goals. I am single with no time to mingle and everything on my body is beginning to jingle (despite my 4-5 day a week workout regimen). I often find myself ministering to people who are struggling to deal with the inner demons of self-esteem, relationship woes and single parenthood, all of which are pain points in my own life. I sit, listening to them while wondering what advice or counsel could I possibly give them. We are shopping from the same shoe rack. The size and color may be different, but the stilettos are of the same brand and style.

The Bible says that we when we are broken, that is when God is closest to us. The Psalmist writes, The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." (Ps. 34:18, ESV)

I take comfort in knowing that Jesus has walked in my stilettos--at least metaphorically. No, I am not indicating any transgender tendencies on the part of our Savior, but as John and Baptist so pointedly stated, his sandals, we are unworthy to even untie. 

Although he carved the ocean floors and painted the horizon with his hands, the creator became the created to redeem his creation back to himself by carrying a cross heavy with my sin. His feet, weary from restless walking from judgement hall to judgement hall, trudged a path spattered with the blood that would save humanity. The shoes he walked in were far more difficult and demanding than any I have or will ever face, and because he has walked in my shoes, he feels and knows my pain. He is well acquainted with the isolation and despondency of loneliness, the pain of having his very identity tested and questioned, and the weight that is felt when others are relying and depending on you for their very existence. He is familiar with the frustration of dealing with church-folk and the hassles of handling haters who try to belittle your gifts and misplace your motives. 

I often think of the Last Supper when Jesus took the unleavened bread and blessed it. He then broke it and gave it to the disciples telling them to eat it, thus ushering in the new covenant of grace. He gives them the commandment, "as often as you do this, you remember me." There are a number of beautiful aspects to this word picture.

The first is that we are blessed to be broken and distributed to others to bless them. Because we are blessed, our brokenness is not in vain. We are broken for the purpose of service. We are broken so that in our brokenness we can remember Christ and the sacrifice He made for us. We are broken to help others who are broken! Jesus shared in the Last Supper with a group of broken men--each with their own set of struggles and issues--yet, God used them to change the world.

Jesus instructed the disciples that whenever they came together--broken and bruised in their humanity and the suffering that they would endure as carriers of His gospel--to remember him. Why is that important? The significance lies in the original institution of the Passover meal. When the children of Israel celebrated Passover, they were remembering God's delivering them from the bondage of Pharaoh in Egypt. When the believer celebrates the Lord's Supper, we are remembering Christ's delivering us from the bondage of sin. We, too, must remember that he was bruised for our transgressions and would for our sins. He was broken for us! and it was when He was broken, that we were healed. It was when he laid down His life, that we were able to pick up the pieces of ours and allow the Holy Spirit to use them to benefit others. 

Paul writes to the church at Corinth, "Even when we are weighted down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. We are confident that as you share in or sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us. (2 Cor. 1, ESV)

We are broken so that God may comfort us and remind us of His undying, unyielding love for us. We then are charged to reach out and comfort others in their brokenness with the same love and grace with which we have been comforted. To do this, we don't have to have it all together--in fact, true ministry comes from a place of brokenness because it allows others to see the frailty of our humanity and the power of God's grace and love towards us.

Broken? Perhaps. Flawed? Certainly. But blessed? Always! To God be the glory!! 

Till the Divas meet again, I remain

In and for His service,

The Divine Diva

Lenten Woes!

I'm down to the last 13 days of the Lenten season and so far, the only thing I've managed to completely give up is my occasional glass of Sweet Red wine. I'm still a shopaholic, chocoholic and himaholic, and I think I'm okay with that.  

My goal at the beginning of Lent was to fast from dating, shopping, bread and alcohol. I'd just gotten out of a three year on again-off again relationship with a man after realizing that he was never going to fully allow me into his life and that, quite honestly, I didn't want to be in it (thus the man-fast). I also needed direction in my finances having taken on a second child with no additional income (thus my shopping fast). I found myself slipping back into old eating habits which have kept me in the plus-size section of all my favorite stores (thus the bread-fast) and given some things from my past, I'm always a bit paranoid of becoming addicted to alcohol (thus my alcohol fast). Well, 31 days in and I realize that I am in no way an alcoholic; however, shopping, bread and men may well be the death of me. 

Sales ads began flooding my Facebook and Google pages like never before-okay, maybe they were there before, but I never really noticed them because I wasn't trying to NOT shop! They keep beckoning me towards those new pumps or that cute dress on sale at Lane Bryant. And with my new more-curves-less-rolls shape, I love a well fitting skirt with some cute slingbacks. I also love shopping for my girls who are polar opposites in the size/shape department. My youngest is my child--no denying that--with the hips and butt to boot, thick long heavy hair and eyes like her father--piercing, deep and quite frankly, blind. My older adopted baby, is thin and long--long legs and long arms with the most beautiful full round eyes you'd ever hope to see. I could spend all day shopping for them--and I literally do sometimes! 

Men must've seen the the "No Dating" sign over the my head, because since the start of Lent, I've been asked on more dates than probably all of 2014 put together, and while I was good at saying, "No" at first, a bald head and nice smile wore a sister down and I ended up going out on one of the longest and most boring dates of my life! The highlight of the night was seeing the interior of his new Honda Coupe (those things are sleek, by the way). I ended up having my sister make the "emergency bad date exit call", and was back home in my bed by 10:00 PM sharp. What a waste of a Friday! 

Now, before you judge me as less than holy, I challenge you to understand the purpose of a fast. God seeks our hearts which then transforms our habits. For me, that meant understanding the "why" behind my "what's". I also realized that the only thing God asked me to give up this season was my dependence on myself so that I could allow Him to do what only He could...show me, me--not the way I choose to "spin" myself, but the way He sees me--flawed and imperfect but full of potential and promise. I did cut down significantly on bread because I realized the triggers that made me want to eat and was conscious of the way it made me feel afterwards. And so because I understand the why, I now have greater control over the what. The same thing with shopping--I use it when I feel insecure to give me a sense of stability; however, that only counteracts the very security that I seek as I'm often left fiscally unstable because I've gone off my budget. Today, at the mall, I was able to walk away from things because I understood what I was tapping into by looking at that new tube of lipstick and contouring kit in Sephora. 

And then there's dating. Or rather my misadventures in dating. Sometimes I feel like the UNLUCKIEST (or in church-speak,  the most NON-ANOINTED) girl in this area of my life. I seem to attract more Mr. Wrong's and kiss more frogs than I can count. Fasting from dating over these past weeks has made me ask the question I think so many women fail to ask, "What vibe am I putting out that is attracting all the wrong men into my life?" What I found looking back on my past relationships is that I have a bent for the broken. I love a project--someone with lots of potential, but a definite fixer-upper. Kind of like, Home Improvement--only for men. Thus my last three relationships were with a younger immature man who needed direction, an old stubborn man who refused to take direction and a guy my age who was going in too many directions. And it doesn't help that I am a nerd--intellect is my krypton-ite. A man who is a reader and a thinker--that gets me every time. And don't let him have a nice set of chompers that are actually all his! Be still my heart! I've dated the gamut of men--from suave smooth well spoken brother to the blue collar brother on shift work whose idea of stimulating literature consisted of Sports Illustrated. I've dated the preacher, the deacon and the pew. And quite frankly, I'm just tired of dumbing myself down and trying to justify my calling as a woman preacher. 

Is it too much to ask for a smart, well-read man with a sharp sense of style, secure in his masculinity and spirituality that can traverse the various facets of my personality from the fact that I love theater and Netflix with equal passion, that I'm a fire baptized, Holy Ghost filled preacher and the girl next door who loves a good laugh and a glass of sweet red with dinner.  Can he navigate these extremes with the same grace would be expected of me were the roles reversed? I want a man who appreciates that I am first and foremost a woman and won't try to control me or box me into what he thinks is an acceptable place for women in church and society--a man who is a real man and knows how to effectively communicate his thoughts and feelings. Is this too much to ask? Obviously so, or I wouldn't be on the downside of 30, staring 40 slap smack in the face, yet still coming home to an empty bed and a dog every night. 

But that, too, is okay because in this period of singleness, I've also learned that I am okay. That having boundaries, standards and goals is healthy and that I don't need to change the essence of who I am to be in a relationship because then I would be lying to my partner and to myself. And so, I wait. 

Where does that leave me with less than two week left for Lent? It leaves me leaning wholly and completely on God's grace and not my flesh. It leaves me seeking His will and plan for my life because I am utterly and completely lost in and of myself. And it leaves me 2 lbs heavier than when I began my fast. 

Until the Divas meet again, I remain

In and for His service,

Jabaria 
The Divine Diva